


Hell Red

by Fleur_Bovina



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Consequences, Dark, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Henry Bowers Being an Asshole, Humiliation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleur_Bovina/pseuds/Fleur_Bovina
Summary: Beverly never had an easy life, but she also didn't imagine things would get worse overnight. She will have to survive regardless of the serious situation she was forced to witness thanks to a certain phenomenon that frightens and makes the inhabitants of Derry disappear.So, what are you going to do, Beverly?
Relationships: Beverly Marsh & Pennywise, Beverly Marsh/Pennywise
Comments: 9
Kudos: 115





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I hope everyone feels great. The truth is that this is the first time I post something on this page... and in English. That's right, English isn't my native language, but it's not entirely impossible for me either. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that, if you find any inconsistencies or errors, I absolutely apologize for that. I need you to have some patience for me.  
> Thanks, guys.

Beverly Marsh's short life was hard since she was a baby. The absence of a deceased mother and the non-election of a father who mistreated and sexually harassed her every time he had her in front of his eyes, were the reasons why Bev grew up deprived of herself. Introverted, abstracted, and within what could be, obedient, this is how Alvin wanted to raise her from the beginning. It was a dark and disgusting time that Beverly would like to erase from her memories forever. Her innocence was in danger hundreds of times back then, that if it weren't for the twisted and dirty mentality of her father who persisted in maintaining the, as he commonly referred to her genitals, the little bunny down there, Beverly would have suffered serious sequelae that would eventually have destroyed her completely.

That same insecurity that worsened when she started her school year like any other _normal_ child in Derry, brought her to another new event.She has never been a very sociable person with the people around her, and perhaps, that was one of the sad consequences of the harsh reality that has been assigned to her. Many of her peers began to notice that _apparent_ shyness in her, and of course, they soon labeled her a _freak._ _Children at a young age can be very cruel, unconsciously._

The years passed and the unjustified bullying she received did not cease. They made up rumors. Obscene rumors about her and a bunch of other kids who, honestly, Beverly never heard of their names in her fucking life. All that was driven by the Henry Bowers (a couple of years older than her) and his group of bully friends. Once, after school, they followed her as she made her way home. Its purpose was evident; _try to hold her back and assault her with violent threats of a sexual_ nature. But thank God, that day her father had left work early, so when they had her cornered near the stairs of the building, Alvin intercepted them with rudeness of all kinds and serious threats involved. The idiots fled the place scared, screaming like little girls. In that occasion, none of them managed to conclude anything strongly degrading, apart from some unwanted caresses in such intimate places. Although Bev was not to blame for it, her father let her know otherwise.

The next day, the whole school seemed to whisper a misversion of the events and thousands of insults were going to her person. They treated her of, well, _promiscuous,_ and among other more humiliating things. Her situation became more compromising than ever, but Bev had become accustomed to these torments for some time now. She could handle it, she'd say.

She managed to get some firmness at the age of twelve, in an episode of violence that starred with another student of the same arithmetic class. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Beverly no longer remembered the girl's name, but she did remember the pink marks on her left cheek that her father infringed on her, after the rector quoted him to a meeting that same afternoon. He had to apply forIt permit to leave a few hours before his job. He was so furious that the artery of his forehead was clearly appreciated. That night Alvin deposited his anger in Beverly. And, despite that, she was grateful that she had not been touched with other intentions that do not correspond to her previous behavior.

One day, Beverly looked in the old mirror in her room.The girl was entering puberty, and the two small lumps in her chest were proof of that. Her father noticed it long before she did, and yet it was something that pitifully he could not prevent from happening. In fact, that only caused his morbid 'protective' obsession to intensify more than in previous years.Those bodily changes that her daughter experienced as laws of a biological nature caused a great impact and something very similar to disappointment. He wanted his little girl, _his_ Beverly to stay that way forever. He never wanted to assume her development as such, she would always be her baby. _Pure and innocent,_ as it should be. And if he had to scare all the children in this city so that they would move away from his precious girl, he would do so without hesitation. She was his.

Then came her first menarche. A new stage that Beverly was completely unaware of because of the mere absence of a maternal figure who could support her. There was never someone who could explain to the girl the first processes of a woman, and she was too embarrassing to ask anyone else about things like that. Obviously, her father _wasn't_ a viable option. Biology classes were also not enough to satisfy her hundreds of questions, and at the time, Ms. Sullivan's explanations were straightforward and concise. _Useless, t_ hought Bev. But she recalled having previously heard private conversations of other girls in the school bathroom, while sucking the _sweet_ nicotine into one of the cubicles for the third time in the day. The Gossips about their periods and the different ways they approached the problem, was how Bev was able to learn a bit of her own feminine nature, thus becoming very effective experiences to create a new perspective less difficult for her. She recalled that, with her monthly allowance, she went to the city pharmacy and bought her first sanitary towels. Her childhood had been left behind, and in an unwelcome manner, she welcomed _maturity._

One time passed and Beverly noticed that her father's some interest in her pre-developed body was disappearing. But there were still things there that disturbed her and disgusted her. Occasionally, the dresser's underwear inexplicably disappeared. She knew the reason. And it kept being disgusting.

Her life was shit, a torment.

Sometimes, she imagined being born into a different family. She didn't really care about the economic situation. Only a loving mother, and a _normal_ father, who had principles and especially, who knew about moral and fraternal limits. She never met her mom. Maybe, if she were here, alive, her life would be less tortuous.

Beverly was tired of crying.

.

But then certain children of the same age appeared who smiled back and, at the same time, improved their day to day. It was no longer so terrible.

She was threatened by others, and loved by her closest. But despite the former, she was no longer alone and until now, she was settled for that.


	2. ll

Beverly loved autumn. Its grayish days, and the leaves of the trees that fell like a mild spring rain, created a pleasant atmosphere to be admired and visualized by long continuous hours through a window. And it is that its brown and orange colors, its wonderful landscapes, and the perfect temperature put it in good spirits for the rest of the season. Sun and rain, a delicious combination. Not that she abhorred summer, no. She didn't hate winter either. But too much of a single station couldn't convince her. Other people loved or preferred spring because of the new life Mother Nature brings to the fertile land. Green and multiple colors. Nice, yes. But not as much as the exotic beauty of autumn. 

While her friends chatted about other matters, of which she was not entirely attentive, Bev looked at the last yellowish leaf of a half-crooked tree in Derry Square. The cool breeze played against its fragile stability in the thin branch with erratic and persistent movements. It was captivating for her, mesmerizing. But the best part of all, her gentle desplanting when she decides to fall to join her other sisters. She brought some nostalgia. Years ago, on this very date, she tried to gather all the largest leaves on the street, to stack them and then jump on them with satisfaction similar to that of a soft and new mattress. Beverly looked at the sky, the sun was hiding behind the big clouds filled with water. The time changed the color of her eyes, they were no longer as blue as the summer sky. Rather, they were gray like this cloudy sky. 

"M-maybe if we go back to s-search through the ducts..." 

"Forget it, Bill. I don't set foot in those sewage again." 

"What's wrong, Eddie? You mommy perceived your smell of shit?” 

“Yes, you idiot! When I got back to my house, I stained the floor carpet with a little mouse shit, and what else? Oh, yes. Rotten human urine! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get her out of there?!" 

"Wait, how do you know it was rotten urine that smelled? Do you smell your own, disgusting urine?" asked Richie. 

"Oh, shut your mouth..." 

"I _think_ it's wise to remember what we saw last time there, Bill. I don't think it's a good idea," Stan said. 

Beverly came to herself when she processed this last topic of conversation. She raised an eyebrow to them. 

"Wastewater? What do you mean?" asked Beverly. 

"We've been looking for... well, to Georgie since... You know. Bill is determined that he can be on the wasteland. 

"I'm sure we'll be able to find some clues. N-We don't lose anything with checking those grounds, guys" 

"Oh, sure! I'm excited to walk with you in that deserted area with a stalker clown sniffing our footsteps," Richie said. "No offense, dude, but since that thing appeared in our lives, maybe we shouldn't walk away from civilization" 

The _clown._ _That_ phenomenon is a different matter. While Beverly wasn't scared of clowns usually - at least not like him friend Richie - this was... well, _unique_ in every way of the word. It looked like fictional, coming out of a horror movie. But it was as real as the nerves that caused her. Yes, she's never met him beforehand. But according to them, their appearance definitely didn't help to make up for the terror it caused them a few weeks ago. It could well be a varied imagination on the part of your boys. That's what she thought before the incident happened in the bathroom of her house. The voices of children calling her from the deepest drain with strange incoherent persuasions, and the litres of blood that vomited on her, and that her father could never see, as if it were magic art, or her possible imagination. It really made her question her mental health. 

"I agree with Richie, Bill. Maybe we're better off sheltering here," Ben said next to him. 

"What the fuck are you talking about? That thing comes up whenever and where it wants. You should know better than I do, Ben. And apparently we're the only ones who can see him or the atrocities he does. It's the same shit," Beverly told him. 

"If we go together I-I don't think a-attack us" 

"What makes you so sure, genius? He'll eat us. He will eat Ben first for his _enormous,_ " he emphasized. "And obvious lack of athleticism, and then Eddie for his always 'timely _'_ and fucking life partner; asthma" 

His friends looked at him with reluctant gestures and two particular faces with obvious indignation. 

_"Beep, Beep,_ Richie. Anyway, I don't want to go back there," Stan concluded. 

"Bill", gently called Beverly with a little tap on his lap. "I don't know, maybe you should assimilate that Georgie..." 

"No, Bev. He couldn't have d-disappeared, just like that. That day it was raining a lot and the s-sidewalks looked like rivers and..." 

"Holy shit, men. Your brother won't come back!" shouted Richie. 

"Richie!" cried Beverly with her eyes wide open. 

"He's dead! The clown...!" 

"Shut up!" shouted Bill. "W-we don't know" 

"Guys, stop it" 

"No! Why do I have to shut up, mnh? Bill must get over the end of his brother. Dead!" 

"It's enough, Richie!" 

"G-Georgie is not dead. You don't know a-anything, " said the boy, as he approached his friend in a menacing manner. 

"Guys, please," said Ben, who was trying to get between them. "This is not necessary..." 

"The Ripsom girl, and Patrick Hockstetter's chump, what do you think happened to them? Think, take that brain of yours, Bill. We found Betty's shoes abandoned the last time we were in the shitty conduit, and we haven't seen that fucking bully in weeks. According to the stories Ben had stuck in his room, these things happen every twenty-seven years. The clown is a serial killer," he spoke a little calmer. Eddie breathed his inhaler once more, restless. "Your brother's not coming back. It won't." 

Nobody said anything after that. Probably, they were all reflecting on their raw words, but with a strong hidden meaning. The atmosphere became more awkward than ever and no one dared to say anything about it. The things that were happening in Derry and the constant harassment of his predator, were affected. They couldn't blame Richie, he was afraid. _Everyone_ was afraid. But his anger was more than justified. It was time for Bill to take the trash out of his ears and remove the blindfold. 

"Damn. We shouldn't be paranoid," Mike said, throwing a rock into nothingness. "My grandfather was right when he said that this city was cursed" 

Beverly looked at the sky slightly dark. Although it was still early, autumn was responsible for changing the real climate to a completely wintery one. People started leaving the park, and parents would take their children back home. The cold wasn't for everyone, she thought. Although, well, she had to leave soon, too. 

"Listen, this is what the clown wants. Divide us. We shouldn't give him that satisfaction, guys. Right now, he must be laughing at us," Bev said, as he stood on the public sidewalk and shook her white dress with small flowers drawn all over the place. "When you have decided what to do, you'll tell me later. 

"Are you leaving, Beverly?" asked Ben. 

"That's right. My father will leave work early today, and I must be there before he gets home." 

"Oh, well. T-t-take care, Bev. I'll see you t-tomorrow, " said Bill with a still face. 

"You too, " she said again. "And please, don't argue anymore" 

She didn't expect any answer. There wasn't one out of courtesy, either. Beverly took her old bike and with one last gesture towards them, she left. The icy breeze caressed her face with great intensity, as well, causing goose skin all over the spine. Her coppery strands were dished off by the adrenaline and filled with brilliance in her favor. There she went again, admiring the panoramic view in front of her eyes. Oh, how she liked the feeling. Every time she pedaled harder, she felt free and more alive than ever. Her troubles were forgotten for a moment, and she opened himself to the prosperity she had longed for some time. Peace of mind. She wished to feel that way forever, but Bev settled for only a few minutes of this satisfaction before returning to her personal hell. 

She was so wrapped up in her own world that she never realized that, about four blocks behind, she was watched by malicious eyes and _very_ malicious attitudes. 

An old _Pontiac_ _Firebird,_ blue. 


	3. lll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit language in this chapter.

The weather in Derry was getting wet. Small drops of water fell on Beverly's body, which is why it encouraged her to rush her pace almost immediately. The people around them opened their umbrellas against the apparent premonition of this autumn drizzle, although there were also others who were sheltered within the same commercial shops or their own enclosures. But there were very few people, she thought. It even reached a point, during her voyage, where Beverly was the only citizen driving on the street. Just her. This brought her curiosity and a little unease. But she kept pedaling on top of her bike as if nothing strange was going on. At least she seemed. 

Suddenly, she braked almost by inertia. A car she knew by heart stood in her way when it came coming out of one of the dark alleys, waiting for her patiently. Henry Bowers and his gang were there. If it wasn't for Beverly's effective reflexes, maybe she would have stopped at the hospital for a dislocated nose. 

This made her angry. 

"What's your problem, you stupid ape? Where the fuck did you learn to drive like that?" she exclaimed. 

Vic Criss and the filthy Belch, got out of the car quickly and immobilized Beverly's arms on her handlebars. She was perplexed and outraged by the sudden event and looked at both idiots with a frown, as she tried to get rid of her claws abruptly. But when she saw Henry Bowers, even inside the car to demand an explanation, she knew immediately the reason for this attempt to lash out at her. He had a patch, a huge patch that sheltered a wound on the left side of his forehead. 

_The one she provoked in defense of her friend Mike._

He wanted revenge, Bev thought. He took advantage of the absence of her friends! 

_Fucking shit. Now what are you going to do, Beverly?_

Her brain was only telling her one thing; run, get out of there before they hurt you. Run and don't stop running. 

"You and I have an unfinished business, _dirty Marsh._ The band of losers will no longer be able to defend you this time," the boy said with a vicious smile and a particular glow in his eye. "Well, fuck, you idiots! What are you waiting for? Get her up before anyone sees us." 

Oh, no. No, no, no. 

"Don't touch me! Release me right now!"

Beverly resisted. She yelled at them, insulted them, and tried to beat them with all their might to leave her alone. She screamed for help many times to nothingness herself, without getting an answer in return. Never mind, she kept kicking them stubbornly, until Vic Criss took both legs and entered them in the back seat against her will. Bev heard the horrific burst of her bicycle falling on the pavement, followed by the mocking noise of the rear wheel in a sudden continuous motion. How could no one hear that? Why wasn't anyone in this area? Did her luck suck today? 

"Leave me alone, you bastard!", she cried. "Help! Help! Someone help...!" 

And then, Beverly abruptly fell silent when she saw something that left her icy. There was a balloon. A red balloon like blood, floating without an owner holding it from the cord, while positioning itself in the corner of a cul-de-sac, only a few feet from it. It was as if the inert object was enjoying the show and making fun of it right now. 

_The clown._

He was there, looking at her. Beverly feared for her life. Not because of the Act of Henry Bowers or whatever was planned for her, no. She remembered Eddie's account at the Neibolt Street house, and how he appeared in front of the boy as one of his worst nightmares, his weakness. If Derry's story was true, this thing will percusse her and give her where it hurts the most. Bev wasn't afraid of clowns, in fact, she liked them and found them funny and crude to a certain extent. Her obvious revulsion at sexual touching was her problem. He wouldn't hesitate to use it against her. 

He probably already knows them now. 

_Oh._

She tried to hold back her tears. She didn't want to be touched _again._ The first time was monstrous torture, and a second one will end up destroying her and hating itself. Bev had to deal with her father's aberration, and now this? 

Why? Why her? Why couldn't they leave her alone? 

"Come on, come on. Get this fucking thing going!" incited Belch sitting next to her, while he watches every corner of the street as a crazy madman who had just robbed a bank. 

Henry sped up the clutch with a petulant smile, and very satisfied the results of his plans. He turned up the radio volume to his biggest peak, while his friend in the co-pilot screamed happily for the recent feat. And it's just that catching the Marsh girl totally unprepared, without the company of those stupid guys who looked like glue on her clothes, seemed almost impossible. Oh, how he was going to enjoy this, the Bowers guy thought. 

Beverly didn't look away from the balloon for a second. Even her friends won't be there for her. 

Oh, shit. Oh, shit! 

She had a bad feeling about this. 

The feeling was unpleasant. Feeling afraid for a supernatural entity went above and beyond all her thoughts on serial killers he knew on television. There was no easy escape. 

Its objective was lost in sight when the great distances of the starter engine resurfaced the desired effect. Again, and more nervous than before, she tried to get out of the grip of the massy bully that squeezed her arm like a metal gag and who, by the way, insulted her very close to her ear. 

"Stay still, you bitch!" 

Vic laughed at his friend's frustration, and moved over his seat to tell him; "Can't you even immobilize a girl who is smaller than you? You are a damn misfortune." 

"Shut up, you son of a bitch!" he speculated furiously. "If the police find out, we're fucked." 

"Damn obese fag", said the dyed blond with a gesture of disapproval. Then he turned to Henry curiously and asked; "Well, where do you want to take this bitch?" 

Henry looked at him for a few seconds, but he said nothing. He looked at Beverly in the rearview mirror and smiled again very anxiously. He had it all planned out, and she was going to pay for it _very_ expensively. 


	4. lV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; Explicit language, attempted sexual abuse.  
> Discretion, please.

Beverly studied around her with distrust and much concern. They were so far from the southern road, that you could see nothing but just grasslands (mostly dry and battered), rotten garbage, and several trees planted all around the deserted area without any enactment of life between them. _It was perfect not to be heard, nor disturbed by_ anyone. She thought about how the fuck she could get out of there without being noticed, where should she go? Will anyone live around there? Bev had questions that her own defense mechanism promoted in her head as a wave of despair. Maybe if she screamed loud enough, she could hear her from... I don't know, somewhere. 

Henry set the vehicle aside on a piece of charred grassland, and kept the keys in his blue jeans as a backup. He took the knife out of the right compartment, and without any shrinkage, showed it to the girl with a sharp tip near her tender, exposed neck. The three bullies laughed at Beverly's unscathed face on the verge of tears. 

"You're not so brave now, are you, bitch?" 

Beverly's first tear slipped down her freckled cheek. 

"Oh, look, she's crying, " scoffed Belch. 

"Which of the six bastards do you suck his dick this time, mnh?" 

Vic laughed out loud. "Have you seen the glances between her and the stuttering fucking? " 

Henry looked at him with fenile disbelief, and then returned with Bev. He laughed like a sick madman. She wanted to shut him up with a blow to the jaw.

"Do you mean B-B-Billy _'crying baby'_ Denbrough?" 

"You would have seen that. They look so _sweet_ together". 

"Then now you fuck Denbrough, dirty Marsh?" asked Henry. 

The girl had her legs shaking even when they kept tightly pressed to each other. She felt so cornered in that little back space of the car, that the girl could feel the cozealy breath of at least two of them and worse, with an obvious intimidating goal. Her heart was throbbing so hard that she thought it could come out at any moment from her chest. She wished only, or rather, _prayed_ to God a feverish thing. Just one. Beverly was willing to take blows, cut, and maybe some humiliations to a certain extent. After all, he's been getting them in most of her daily life. But a sexual abuse of that kind, no. She couldn't take it one more time. Just thinking about it, her stomach was spinning. 

"What do you have between your legs that everyone wants to fuck you?" Asked Henry cynically. "What do you say, boys? What if we check her little pussy?" 

Beverly opened her eyes in horror as she let out a small gasp. _No no no._

That was enough for her to finally wake up from the momentary shock and fight for her dignity as it gives rise. 

“Don't touch me, you bastards! I said don't touch me!" she exclaimed, kicking (even close-legged) anyone who came one millimeter closer to her body. If only she could give Belch's round face a push, maybe she could free her sore hands from a fucking time and defend herself more easily. Right now, everything seemed in vain. 

"Immobilize her hands, Belch!" 

"Damn, I can't do it right if I'm sitting this way!" 

"You'll be a fucking asshole! Legs, Vic, separate them! Or are you a useless faggot, too?" 

The dyed blonde growled angrily when his masculinity was questioned, and obeyed Henry without thinking twice as a sign of daring. However, Beverly kicked him in the cheekbones before Vic laid his hands on her. 

Henry, almost above her, took advantage of the certain carelessness in that female erogenous zone, to proceed to press the knife on the little freckled jaw, while, with his other rough and free hand, he caressed his left breast with contained greed. Beverly cried most strongly over the disgusting contact as if she were burning her skin directly, thus unleashing the suddenness that was absent in the movements of her limbs that until now were brittle. All those memories that happened almost two years ago, returned to her like a bucket of water loaded with pieces of rubbish that flooded and belittled the little, but still present dignity that remained. 

She hated her fucking life! Why did this have to happen to her? Didn't she deserve to live in peace without her father or boys her age harassing her? 

Beverly has received false insults for so many years for free. If half the town knew the real girl behind all the prejudices pointed at her person, perhaps... only _maybe_ opinions about her would change and begin to treat her with respect. People in Derry think that if you come from a _very_ humble neighborhood, well... you have certain _ways_ to make easy money. 

She's fourteen years old, she loved reading, and drawing on anything she found lying around. She liked to cycle with her friends into the woods and streams, especially in warm climates. Spending time with her losers was the most beautiful thing Beverly treasured, and therefore she also loved them very much, because despite what the people usually talk about, they didn't judge her. 

What would people say when they knew she was never a prostitute, even though his children said otherwise about her? Because yes, Beverly Marsh was still a virgin. The only _intimate_ and _desired_ contact she has ever experienced in her disgusting life was just an innocent kiss. In fact, she couldn't even call it _kiss._ It was so inexperienced and childish... but sweet. 

She wanted to keep that part of her innocence. First she longed to fall in love with a boy who loved her and treated her well. From that anonymous boy who once sent her such a precious poem and who has been jealously guarding it so that her father could never read it. She suspected Bill. Bill was... tender, and looked at her as no one had looked at her before. That is, without any malicious and incorrect intent. Was it wrong to feel loved by a boy and hold on to a piece of paper? 

Henry Bowers began unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans when Beverly's short tights reached her thighs (with a lot of effort). She opened her eyes in shock, and froze. 

_No! Why? This did not happen like this last time._

This act provoked in his other two companions the bewilderment that they should have had from the beginning as 'normal persons'. 

"Henry!" called Belch. 

"Shut that mouth of yours!" 

"I-I thought we were just going to bother her." 

Beverly sobs again, could this intervention be a little light hope? Even her wrists felt less tight. 

"If my parents find out about this, I..." 

"I said shut up, you bastard! Don't you realize it's just dirty Marsh, the town slut?" 

"Not even your father can save you from this, Henry, " said Vic a little unmoved. 

Henry smiled at him petulance. 

"You'll have your turn too, Criss. Only if you help me keep this pair of legs open, of course". 

Belch looked at his blond friend uneasily. The two actually looked at each other, but as it has always been since he _joined_ the gang, Vic Criss obeyed him without the respective will. 

"All right, help me get his panties off. 

"Please, please, please, " she pleaded with closed, wet eyes. 

"What's the matter, honey?" he whispered mockingly. "Are you anxious for us to fuck the little bunny down there?" 

_"You're so beautiful, my Bevvy. I hope you still have that little bunny down there like Dad likes”_

Beverly looked him in the eye when he finished that question. Why did he just recite the same morbid expression of her father? There was no way he could hear it from her father's own mouth! And this definitely couldn't be a coincidence! 

Oh my god. Was there a chance the was being manipulated by the famous clown? Well, that was the only explanation. The phenomenon had supernatural and impressive abilities, why not? Plus, that fucking balloon last time... 

When Bev's underwear slipped through her thighs, she returned to herself. She wasn't going to let the clown become her new abuser, so with her wrists finally free (Belch off) she tried to push 'Henry' off his shoulders. 

"You monster, " she expressed with furious eyes. "I'm not afraid of you!" 

And then, in an act of spontaneous courage, she bit the sniping tip of Bowers' nose, which Bowers soon reacted to the horrible pain with eminent cries coming out of the depths of his throat. The bite was deep, and the blood overflowing from the lips of both was a blunt proof of that. The metallic taste of others provoked some horrific arches to Bev, but because of the quality of the current situation, she felt compelled to repress him for perhaps later. To keep Henry out of her body, she didn't have any mercy either. She struck him with a clean fist straight to his left cheek, splashing a great deal of blood on his big friend, who still seemed frozen before the scene. 

The girl took advantage of the two bullies' nervous concern towards their leading friend, and quickly fled the car without any clear direction. 

"I'll kill you, motherfucker! I'll kill you, I swear!" 

Beverly just ran, ran, and never thought of looking back. Her body trembled with pure adrenaline. It occurred to her to enter the old forest for fear that they would follow her with the vehicle running... at least if they were willing to follow her, they will have to do it like her. The creaking of the dried leaves that were watered all over the earth, was on par with the palpitations of her own heart. Her breathing became abnormal, as if she were lacking the air in her lungs, but no, she was the very fear that moved through all his senses in full skin. 

As she continued to advance over the tall autumn trees, the rain became increasingly persistent. A change in temperature in the environment changed strangely everything around her. The hen's skin contaminated her body very suddenly, which inantricably Beverly hugged herself to store something hot. Her legs were tired. She did not know how many meters or kilometers she had traveled all this time, but at least, she was almost certain that they would not find her right away. 

She rested for a few minutes, she needed it. She still stood and resting with one arm on a tree, was able to normalize her breathing which seemed too sick to her taste. The temperature kept dropping for Beverly's frustration. 

But what the fuck is going on? Even a layer of mist seemed to peek over the edge. 

"Damn it", she whispered. 

Beverly looked everywhere and frowned. She didn't know if it was part of her imagination, or maybe it was stupid, but the feeling of being trapped by a wave of gas gave her a bad feeling. It seemed like the beginning of a bad joke. 

Resigned, she slid down the rough, thick crooked trunk until she dropped on top of the ground. The anguish and the disgusting situation she was in, completely satute her. She was lost in this forest. How long has it been since then? Will there be anyone who was looking for her apart from those bastards? Her father, perhaps? Her boys? Anyone else? 

Beverly closed her eyes as she hugged her wet, numb legs. She could not bear the pressure of her breast for any longer, and burst into tears with her face hidden in her arms. It felt so... A garbage that was worth nothing. The little security she kept so far was eventually vanished. 

Why? Why her? Perhaps, she will ask herself that question for the rest of her life until there is someone who can answer that she was wrong with her.

Maybe she was a whore after all, Beverly was starting to believe it. The girl was a magnet of fucking rapists who longed to stalk her. Did she have the word marked on her forehead or what the fuck...? 

"Hello, Beverly" 


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, guys!  
> Violence in this chapter.

Bev squealed very alarmed by that sudden voice and looked out of her direction. She opened her eyes with a pang of terror. There, about seven meters away, was a high silhouette of a... a human? No, it was _too_ high and also a little... well, weird. _Pretty_ weird actually. The mist swept through the apparent disproportionate figure, so it was difficult for Beverly to distinguish it clearly. But that's not what has put her off at the time, those _eyes,_ she's never seen eyes that glowed like two lamps at night. 

_Christ!_

The thing found her. 

_Of course he found you, stupid!!_

"Don't I scare you, Beverly?" 

She gasped with chills. Hell, that voice can't be normal, it can't. 

The thing laughed horribly and then he added; "I smell your fear. Your _abundant_ and **_delicious_ ** fear" 

Without wasting a minute more time, Bev returned to the trees regardless of the fucking mist that obstructed her vision. She was lost, very disoriented. She didn't know which direction she was running, and honestly, she didn't care, she just wanted to get away from that spectrum, even if it was a totally useless and absurd act. Beverly wasn't qualified to handle this situation _alone._ No one could get a sense of how distressing it was to escape a predator, literally. There were times when she fled home to get away with her father's beatings or innuendos, and on two occasions, he has gone so far as to follow her throughout the village to bring her back and finish what he started. The idea was similar, only this time it was her life and not her physical integrity that was at stake. 

A huge root among the dried leaves materialized in her path, and Beverly fell to the ground with a sour groan of pain. She managed to stand up with a little difficulty, while a fresh bruise irritated her right knee. Her tears came out again, but not out of pain. She just wished that wherever she ended up stopping, there was someone to help her. She even settled for her father's presence. 

Then, before she could react in time, something out of nowhere appeared on her left side and imprisoned her by throwing her back to the ground with an unreasonable force. 

She screamed thinking of her predator, but no, it wasn't exactly him. 

"Here she is, I've caught her!" 

It was Belch's filthy voice. 

"I got you, you fucking bitch. Henry is very, _very_ angry at what you've done to him” 

"No! You don't understand!" 

Beverly didn't know how the fuck they managed to find her so quickly. It was impossible, unless... has she been stupid enough to have been running in circles? Oh. 

"That thing is going to kill us if we don't...!" 

The girl heard the other two footsteps that stopped a few inches from her face, and the fright became part of her. She saw Henry Bowers (still bleeding from his nose, but with less precision) watching her with evident hate contained and about to explode, while with a finger-moving he set aside the thin spill on his upper lip. Belch pressed one foot on Beverly's stomach to deny her escape, causing her as much pain as possible with the weight of her strength. 

The next thing that happened was assaults. Kicks in her head, on her legs, and in the arms that weakly protected her face, while they spit on their clothes and shouting all kinds of insults. She cried, and begged for them to stop. Even she offered apologies as an option, but they seemed not to hear it or simply had no mercy on her vulnerability. 

_No more... Please..._

The bruises that she had preserved long before and that had not yet healed completely, tripled the pain of her extremities as if a force on human was used by impacting her body. A fire pertaining all over her skin. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed amid sobs. 

First of all, why did she have to apologize? They wanted to rape her! 

"You'll leave a mark on my nose, you filthy whore!" cried Bowers. "Oh, but I'll give you a more horrible one on that pretty face of yours, " he laughed. 

Henry knelt beside her, and pulled out of his pocket his precious knife with more than determined intentions. He abruptly slapped Beverly's arms, and with his left palm pressed her freckled cheeks so she could see him commit this serious action. The boy's cheeky smile shone brighter than the very stars in the sky. Bev held his wrist with the knife and tried hard to keep it away from her face. He was really going to do it! 

Just a millimeter between that thing and her cheek, Vic's voice interrupted him, pulling him out of his solid concentration, driving him totally crazy. 

"H-Henry" 

"What the hell do you want now?" he asked very abstracted, without turning his eyes away from Bev. 

"There ... t-there is something, look”, he answered in his trembling voice, pointing his index finger in one direction. 

Henry looked at his friend (enduring the desire to send him to hell) and then to the place where he indicated it with that strange concern. He frowned at what his sight materialized a few feet away. 

"But what the hell is that..." he whispered. 

The girl would simply listen to the dialogue and draw her own conclusions. _The thing caught up with her, and now, for his benefit, he'll take the jackpot straight to the stomach._ Perfect! This can't get any worse. She had her eyes closed, complaining about the unbearable pain of her limbs. As much as she wanted to see what was happening right now, she was still a little suspicious enough to neglect a possible new blow, so Bev preferred to stay there, in the fetal position, and in silence. 

"Holy shit" 

Belch could not fight the apparent abnormality his eyes saw, and shouted unscathed like a little baby, the first being to leave the scene and leave his other colleagues behind to his fate. None of them held him back or insulted him for his cowardice. In fact, if the other two still stood firm in that place, contemplating who knows what, it was for a simple product of shock and not by condescension. Should she do the same? 

"Fuck all this!" cried Henry with watery eyes, awakening from the commotion that stalked him. It was a matter of seconds that he fled a different path from the one that the Belch massif took. 

Beverly listened to the frantic gasps and discouraging murmurs in Vic Criss' mouth. Why the fuck doesn't he follow the same example? Oh, God. She wasn't going to stay there to find out of course! She carefully moved her sore body, and began to crawl slowly across the earth, without looking back. She didn't care what happened to him! At this point she was more concerned about his own life than anything else! _Come on, move it, you idiot!_

A hoarse, tall, anomalous growl echoed intensely in her inner eardrums, accompanied by a tearful, absolutely terrifying and completely humane second _cry._ The birds that resided in the treetops, flew away from the area, emitting the last hisses that impacted on an acoustic and empty echo. From what she could hear, the clown ate his _food_ with such appetite, in a way that assimilated a starving man, who did not mind ingesting with vulgar despair, exhibiting uncluttered the sound of bones tearing apart. Beverly stopped for a brief moment with a sour grimace drawn on her face, and holding the arches as if her right hand on her lips helped. Still, she couldn't stand it for long, the revulsion was much bigger than her containment, and it was also something Bev was extending before. 

When she was finally able to empty her disintegrated lunch, she heard the clown's unpredictable footsteps heading towards her. He was behind her, studied her, and she knew it. Oh, the unhealthy smell of blood flooded her nostrils. Her tears poured back on her cheeks, along with a chill in her spine. 

Why doesn't he take her? What was he playing at? He was waiting for her to turn around? 

Well, pity for him, but Bev didn't have that in mind. 

Beverly thought of a move. A quick move. It was just a matter of arming yourself with courage and inciting your impulses to carry it out. She just had to stabilize her right leg and run, run. Yes, it sounded easier said than done. But as if the clown had read her mind with that absurd plan, it was he who moved first. She felt a weight on her back, and opened her eyes bewildered. Her skin bristled and for moment she thought that he was going to... But no. The clown was sitting on her, _sitting._ but what the fuck? Bev dared not move, let alone with that thing so close to her. A gloved hand slid over the girl's little neck and tilted her head upwards with a savage displacement, conceiving groans of pain in her. The clown mocked her pain, about ten centimeters from her right ear, in a deep, clearly abnormal voice. 

He was really rotten in blood! 

The monster's drool fell on her shoulder and ended up spilling into a thin thread by her poorly bent arm. She swallowed saliva waiting for the final blow, a bite perhaps. She had no escape, and there was no one who could help her. 

But again, the sick voice spoke to her by ear. 

"You'll float too, _Beverly,_ " he said, followed by sharp, childish laughter." **_Very soon_ **" 

After that, Beverly lost consciousness with the feeling that her brain was pierced by a sharp stake, infiltrating a deep sleep where she saw a lot of precious memories with her friends, especially Bill. She saw herself leaning on him back while he pedaled in old Silver, babbling bad jokes that only he could understand and laugh. 

**Perhaps that will be the last pleasant dream she will experience, because her real hell was just beginning.**


	6. VI

Dust. That was the first thing Bev could perceive deep in her nostrils. Her gesture wrinkled unpleasantly as the microscopic particles grazed inside each time she inhaled a little relief into her lungs. She slowly opened her eyes as she rubbed her head as a useless method to appease the discomfort that resurfaced suddenly as she regained some of her senses. The hardness of the surface on which she was petrified numbed seventy-five percent of her body, and obviously the position she still held only worsened her blood circulation. Why was she on the floor? 

Bev frowned at the sight of the first panoramic view. A wooden roof (scruffy and dirty in long cobwebs), completely shattered, and in a deplorable state contaminated by moisture fungi and insects. She gasped frightenedly, unaware of all fucked-up around her, and she straightened right away. Where was she? What was this place? Why wasn't she at home?! 

Carefully, the girl stood on the rotten wood, and looked on both sides examining the place. First, there was that unbearable smell of moisture, then that handful of mites happily floated across the surface and... I don't know, the presence of a _huge_ deprivation of ventilation, which would drown anyone who set foot there. _Oh, well,_ cleanliness is a non-existent concept on these sides, Beverly thought. The room was spacious, very empty. The walls were cracked and at other ends, with the textile printing over the floors. There was that spark of antiquity reflected in this place, Beverly didn't know why. Maybe the structure? She doesn't remember seeing windows like that in Derry's houses. They weren't ugly, at least not for someone who had a special appreciation for the moldings of those pioneering times. 

Suddenly, she opened her eyes when her brain made a small connection. In fact, there was a house like this, but... 

Would it be possible...? 

Bev approached uneasily toward one of the two windows of the room, and looked through it. Although these were protected with boards hammered from the outside, she could see a couple of things. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining in the sky like any other summer's day. But the temperature was a different matter. The moldy glass was slightly tarnished with small shiny crystals. This detail reminded him again that they were only in mid-autumn. Unfortunately, from her perspective, there wasn't much that could help her confirm her suspicions, but that didn't calm her down much. 

A new chill ran through the girl's nerves when she felt tiny footsteps on the sole of her shoes. She looked down confused, and screamed disgustingly. 

A rat. A filthy fat rat. 

"Oh, damn shit!" she exclaimed, kicking the rodent away from her person. 

_I have to get out of here, but now._

Fuck the place. She didn't want to get any disease or anything else. Wherever she was right now, it didn't really matter much, no?. 

Her father. Her fucking father was going to kill her, and maybe imprison her at her house as punishment, until further notice. She was afraid to come back. How would she deal with that? Sooner or later she had to ring the doorbell of her house and face her father, but no, damn it, Beverly knew what was going to happen to her inside those four walls. 

The girl went out through the frame without a door, and walked stealthily through the other quarters. She was convinced it was the house on Neibolt Street. How did her get there? That was the question. And well, she had no fucking idea. Bev didn't remember what happened before he woke up inside this house. His memories were blurry. 

_Whoa._

Amazing. The person who lived here left everything as it was. The powdered furniture remained intact, to some extent, still servable for reuse. Why hasn't anyone dug inside this property? There were a lot of things that could be sold and/or appropriated to give it a better use. Unless there's an owner? Beverly didn't believe it, it was all so ambiguous, abandoned for long years. 

_Mmh._ Removing cobwebs, dirt, and with a decent restoration of _many_ things... The house would be beautiful. _It was_ quite, actually. She was curious about the origin. Ever since she was little, walking in front of that house was a real annoyance. The facade is horrible! How could I not be? But it was strange, there was never talk of an owner, a deceased, or a current owner. 

“¡Beverly!” 

Bev stopped in her tracks. _Bill?_

“¡Beverly!” 

“¡¿Bill?!” 

What the fuck? Was Bill here? 

"Bill! Bill! Where are you?!" she asked. 

Silence. 

Why? Why was he here? 

"Bill!" she called again. 

Beverly walked a little faster until she managed to find some old stairs. Dude, the fucking cobwebs! How many spiders can there be here? 

“¡Bev!” 

He was upstairs. She went up without thinking twice. Was he alone or with the other boys? 

The sharp squeal of the steps was never absent, in fact, the sound accompanied her until she finally reached the next room. Ugh, now she understood why it was more spacious downstairs, all the garbage was up here! Debris, and many broken chairs piled up in one place. Even Beverly could see the blue sky through a small opening in the ceiling. The floor was wet, broken, and Oh, Christ, full dead birds by different parts of the corridor. 

“Bill” 

"Beverly?" he answered. "Beverly! Bev, I'm here!" 

The girl heard him inside a room. The door was between open, and apparently inside it was dark. A little voice in her left ear told him not to open and to get out of there immediately while she could. Considering that, made her tremble. No, this can't be real. Why would he be here? This isn't real, it's not real. Again, the clown was playing with her. She had to escape. 

"Beverly, help me, please, " said _that_ Bill. "The clown has kidnapped me, I can't move. Please don't leave me, don't leave me" 

_Damn it, what can I do?_

“¿Beverly?” 

She swallowed saliva. Okay, she was a cowardly and honestly, with the things that were going on lately, her actions went more down the path of defensiveness and logic. But what if this wasn't a game? Think, Beverly. Bill, here, alone? Impossible. All her boys knew what to prowl around alone, it meant express food for the clown. We talked about it a few days ago, and we agreed _to try to_ go out as a group to watch our backs. 

“Bev?” 

If it were that phenomenon, she wouldn't have a way to escape. She wasn't armed, not even with something sharp! Men... 

_Get away now, don't look back._

"Why do you stop...?" 

"Go to hell!" and she ran back to the ground floor. 

_Don't let him catch me. Don't let him catch me._

As she descended the stairs with something similar to tachycardia, she desperately searched for the exit at each corner of the room, and when she finally managed to spot it on her right side, she ran straight to the doorknob. Beverly will be able to go home. 

However, when she tried to open it, she didn't get results. She struggled, pulled the handle, and still did, she didn't open. _No, no. Please. Let me out._

The desire to cry came only from frustration. 

A strong hunch touched her intuition. Beverly felt watched. This time, she knew she was accompanied, and the creaking of the wood on the floor, which was approaching very slowly towards her, was a cruel demonstration of the facts. He was behind, breathing like a starving animal. Probably, also drooling, savoring the aroma of the human. Waiting until the most insignificant movement of her prey, to jump on her. She looked over her shoulder, and saw him, met him for the first time. And God, that thing wasn't a clown! _It_ was a cheap imitation, a creation that was based on a clown, but was modified purely to scare off! The iris of his eyes shone as if he wanted to somehow get inside her head, and control her. And his fucking height. Beverly wasn't sure, but maybe this is the first time she's known a visibly human look, almost two meters long. 

Actually, everything about him was so grotesque. Starting by that exorbitant head, right down to his exaggerated hook feet. 

_Creepy._

"Bevvy, Bevvy, Bevvy, " he began, saying. "Poor thing, Beverly. So alone, abandoned and lost like a fairground doll. Tell me, do you want to be found?" he asked cynically. "Or be food for the hounds?" 

Then the clown was just a step away over her. A blink of an eye for Beverly. His yellow, sharp teeth grew as if nothing came from his open mouth, ready to ingest her. 

And the air she kept in her lungs wasn't enough for her livelihood. 


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; Pay attention to this chapter. If you don't like explicit sexual content, I suggest you wait for the next update. I took care to soften this slightly to some extent, but anyway, I feel compelled to let you know since not everyone can like to read such a situation.  
> Under your responsibility, enjoy then. :))

The clown had her strongly affirmed by the neck. Beverly tried every possible way to free themselves from his clutches, but it was as if nothing, no one, could match that creature's strength. Her feet were stirring in the air with despair, looking for some source of support. He held it as if her little body were a light and insignificant feather, easy to manipulate. 

"And now?" asked the beast a few inches from her decomposed face. "You fear me?" 

Beverly groaned in response. 

He liked to witness the gestures of pain in _all_ his victims in front of hand. The fear that overflowed her pores increased his hunger, to the point of drooling for that _exquisite smell._ But also, he remembered their vital condition and hated them for that inferiority. 

_It's_ disgusting. 

Millions of different years, times and situations, ingesting them, savoring them, and there was nothing that could differentiate that same shit. Once, the clown came to question the reason for the existence of these beings. He could perfectly use a single thumb on his little necks and send them to the other world so easily. It so much fun to do it. But he's patient... just a little bit. First, he wanted to see them scream, beg, and then _feel_ that distressing feeling that encouraged him to eat. Especially in those miniature creatures that possessed highly sensitive and recently germinated emotions. _Oh, delicious._

But this human girl... _Beverly,_ she confronted him in some way or another. Not even the actions of those bully children (who were obviously manipulated by him in large part) managed to carry out his will. An unforgivable insult! He was the eater of worlds, and therefore all this inferior filth must have feared him. _Brave, to what extent?_ He could smell scary in her, yes, but such a thing was not enough to ingest her. Deep down, this brought a certain curiosity in him. This costume did not scare her at all, and while it was a strategy to attract children (which worked well), seeing him with physical particularities so extravagant and unhuman that they were created exclusively to disturb, he did not recreate such a notorious panic in her. 

However, the clown knew her greatest fear. 

Beverly's heart went crazy throbbing inside her chest, and the pulses... God, her pulses. She felt them with abnormal clarity, and that scared her. The lack of air was working on her entire nervous system, and she was about to lose the strength to fight. 

"I..", she whispered among drownings. 

The clown raised an ‘eyebrow’. 

"I-I'm not afraid o..." 

She couldn't finish the sentence. Bev was freed from the monster's grip, and not on her merit, or perhaps she did, she did not know it. He just let her go, and he let her fall to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

Beverly coughed a couple of times over the wood dust and took a deep breath loving every second while doing so, even if it was a toxic action.

Apparently she had angered him with that confession.

The clown positioned himself behind her as he watched his victim recover the usual inhalation. With a sudden movement, he lifted the girl's narrow hips to his groin and removed part of her dirty dress, throwing it over her waist.

She let out a choked cry, occupying an immediately alerted posture. The creature got rid of the short panties with a scratch sticking out of its white glove, pinking the tip of its nails in Beverly's intimate area. Her body shook. 

"No, please!" she exclaimed trying to turn around. Her intentions were useless, of course. 

_I don't want this. Oh, God, please._

The underwear fell sliding down her thighs, completely torn. Her butt was bare, the cold infiltrated all the flesh, and the gooseskin soon ran through her back, legs, arms and her breasts. A new feeling grew in her chest, a rejection, a fear, revulsion... these three turned into one emotion. Bev cried with her face stuck on the floor, feeling useless in this situation. She was so unable to do something for herself. She felt physically weak, as if the traces of energy slipped away along with her poor tears.

What can you do to stop this, Beverly? 

"Please eat me, eat me, but don't hurt me like that, don't abuse me like that, " she pleaded in close eyes. She knew that begging him for such a thing was absolutely in vain, but she still wanted to try. 

The clown laughed again at her with little growls, without telling her a word. He felt her. He felt the fear of the human being as a whole. He inhaled it in the air with so much fervor, and longing, ready to receive more than where came that fabulous wave up to his painted nose. With both claws embedded in the girl's soft skin, he sank his stiff cock deep inside, in one lunge. 

Beverly vociferized her affliction, sobbing her grief more intensely. The innocence vanished. A part she had protected for so long was torn away in the most ruthless and violent way in the world. The _penis_ was too big for her. 

_Oh..._ It hurt, it hurt a lot. Not only was her inside torn, her heart was more than shattered by this dire circumstance. 

She grimaced. “¡Oh!” 

The monster pulled out his cock and put it back inside it impatiently. He repeated the act over and over again, until he managed to keep it in a continuous and steady motion. Each enclacing was a sharp needle that penetrated Beverly's inner walls, caused by the obvious absence of slippery fluid in the area. She clenched her fists tightly, her teeth biting the tip of her tongue. The ardor was unbearable, and she complained about it all the time. A terrible discomfort arose in the cervix every time the cock crashed it beyond its biological limit. The clown gasped and growled, in a frustrating way. 

_This can't be happening to me._

Not content with the speed maneuvered, he took a different course. He controlled Bev's body at will, and now it was he who carried the pussy directly to his cock, faster than before. Beverly opened her mouth in a small _"o"_ for the sudden change in perpetration, which intensified her pain in the depth of her vagina. The clash between the two bodies generated resonance in the room like hundreds of energetic applause in a community play, but for her, they were more alike with the sound of the blows her father tipped her over her clothes. 

The clown again took a deep hold of the girl's fear when she recreated her father's slight memory. He smiled in awe, as he savored his painted lips with saliva flowing on the front of his suit. The thrusts increased more and more, causing groans in the girl. 

The access became slippery to Beverly's surprise, since that was not due to her. That also didn't mean that _that ease_ easeed her pain, of course. There was only one reason and one culprit for it. 

Time seemed eternal to her. Twenty, thirty, fifty ramming, and he still didn't stop. The buttocks were starting to sting a little. 

_Why doesn't he finish? Why doesn't he end her torment once and for all?_

At that instant, she felt the monster's cock finally leave her body. Apart from a twinge in the small opening of the vulva, its inner walls were hot and dormant. Such a... Strange. It pricked her like shit. However, the relief that began to grow in her mind, lasted no more than five seconds. The clown roughly flipped her small body (still lying on the ground) by taking it by the hips, to change the initial posture. The first thing Bev spotted was the monstrous cock that stood out at anything else. 

She opened her wet eyes. That wasn't a normal dick! Not that she's seen one before, but that thing was so big, rough to the naked eye, with a vein surrounding his whole outline, and... prinated by blood pints on the top of the glans. _Her blood._ Beverly crawled back across the floor, very disturbed. The clown caught her before she could run away, lifting her up again by the neck. 

She writhed before his outstretched arm and struggled a little with the help of her legs. 

Her head was blank when the clown brought her closer to his high body, with her thin wrist legs separated on each side of his groin. She could even sense the incredible and strange sweet smell of the beast. _Sweet?_ How could he smell like that, considering the amount of bloody bodies he ingests when he wants to do it? 

She let out an agonizing scream when the clown penetrated her again, but this time, with some difficulty. This new position worsened internal friction. Her pussy was so tight that the monster growled like an animal, satisfactorily. 

He repeated the same modus operandi as before. He would go up and down the girl's hips in his own way, at his own pace. She didn't look like a living being, she looked like a rag doll. Beverly was forced to hold her abuser's shoulders, squeezing the fabric of his suit tightly so as not to fall on her back, while he was riding her upright. 

"No-Ah", she tried to say. "Ow, shit, " she cried in a whisper. 

The clown made fun of her, starting to fuck her harder. He wanted to break her in all existing ways. Humiliate her, discourage her. He wanted her to feel more vulnerable than she already was, so that she could satisfy the hunger that traveled throughout the body of this filthy human figure he borrowed. He never thought of reaching this limit with a human. He liked to play with food, yes, however, it was the first time he _mated_ with one. 

_And he was enjoying it. A lot._

He never thought that such human activity would serve to corrupt the prey. Genophobia was nothing new to him. Many humans, especially the females of this species, have suffered from this disorder, throughout his existence under the depths of this city. The difference is that his ruse consisted of psychological violence, not physical violence. This occasion was an exception for the girl's blazing and stupid _fearlessness._

Who the fuck did she think she was fighting? 

The clown's painted nose inhaled Beverly's neck as an act of pure _excitement._ He had no problem licking her from her temple to the chin, causing immediate rejection in her. _Salty._ He was accustomed to dealing with the taste of fresh tears permeated on the face of his food. A minimal detail, really. 

He wanted to bite her, try her. Hunger increased, but watching her suffer every time he desecrated her little pussy, it came to satisfy him in the same way. Not just for his _carnal_ pleasure. 

Something was coming. The clown's instinct was to increase the onslaught with a rather implausible and intoxicating speed. He perceives a smell of recently overflowed blood from the human's genitals, mixed with some other substance he recognized as his. The pleasure was at the highest of the cusps, and in just a matter of seconds, the creature _roared_ immensely loudly when it reached its expected climax. Beverly closed her eyes and trembled with terror upon hearing that cry worthy of a lion or a wild bear. A warm, unknown, and filler sensation, flooded inside her sore pussy in blunt and consecutive jets. The clown noticeably diminished its movements, until finally that was no longer anything. Beverly knew he wouldn't go on anymore... but the virile limb was still latent within her. Erect, too. 

**She had never felt so dirty in her life, as now.** _Dirty Marsh, it fits like a glove._


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter, I know. But I really wanted to upload something, so here it is!! I've written something very very soft, so I'm sure this won't bother you at all. And just in case, I warn you; It's short, but it has something explicit out there.  
> Enjoy it!!

For a long time, Beverly could not convince herself of the many disappearances of children. That is, Derry is such a small town (of old inhabitants) where the people who resided there knew each other from many years ago. Different gossip spread like hot bread in a few hours, leading to the next day, that all people talk about it as if nothing. So how was it possible that there was an acquittttoised psychopath? The town was commonly peaceful, quiet ... too quiet. If there was something that disturbed that peaceful image because of some individual with strange attitudes, it couldn't go unnoticed by anyone, let alone when they were recently kidnapping minors. In addition, one thing that needed to be emphasized is that these events occurred in a very unforeseen way. Overnight. The first thing Beverly thought, realizing this detail, is that it was a person who lived on the outskirts of town. The possibility of linking a neighbor in this, did not convince her. Anyway, she knew she had to take care of herself as she walked the streets at night, and alone. No one knew what could happen. 

Then it became known of the identity of that perpetrator, and the people seemed to ignore or minimize the disappearances as if they were an insignificant event. A band blinded them to almost everyone. A clown. That was new, and something out of the ordinary. _A clown?_ He could be a lazy who couldn't find anything better than to take advantage of what was going on, in a jester costume. I wish it had been just that. 

Although at first she did not believe it (since quite crazy was the idea), he himself ended up quelling the doubt of his head in a very bloody way. How was that possible? What the fuck was that thing? And what the fuck did he want? Luckily, Ben's innate curiosity about the history of what became his new home was able to give them a little scoop of what for _years_ has been going on in this town every _twenty-seven years._

The deadline ended until recently, and he had returned hungrier than ever. 

Children were his favorite dish. Among them, there was also her. Beverly managed to understand the feeling that grew in his other victims, seconds before they was ingested, as she had just lived it in her own flesh. But she still could not imagine in all that they had to suffer for being innocent enough to fall into the clutches of an apparent clown of noble intentions. What a cruel and inhumane ruse. 

> _When you also find yourself in such a situation, compassion is shared, right?_

* * *

The girl still did not assimilate it clearly. The clown _took her,_ and _raped her, not just once._ After the first sexual assault ended with a favorable outcome, he wanted to repeat it for the second, third, fourth, fifth time, completely seduced by carnal pleasures, _attached_ to a human. Beverly couldn't understand the clown's eagerness to continue humiliating her in that way. What else did he want from her so that he could finally end her miserable suffering? The damage was already done, but he was still enthralled within his own action. His malice has no limits. 

There came a time, where Bev, in tears, implored the clown to kill her. He didn't listen to her, as obviously this wasn't something that could be controlled by her. She had no right to even ask him for clemency. Is this the _reaction_ that the children also had to endure? _Georgie,_ Bill's brother, just a little innocent human being, used for this monster's sick morbidity, _is disgusting._ This would break Bill's heart into a thousand pieces. 

Her poor, bruised, completely paralyzed left leg moved lifelessly with each new penetration, while her other right leg rested on the monster's shoulder (action performed by him) as an act of domination and power over her. Her face dyed red, wet but silent, showed no defined expression, and the present pain in the intimate area below tended to become not as dense as the first time. The slip was easily carried out, as if her pussy ended up adjusting to the large size of the cock. The viscous liquid naturally fulfilled one of its functions, _of course,_ but the _needles_ were still there, embedded in her inner walls, like a stain that did not want to come out no longer to fregle. 

Beverly had a mind so blocked, in shock, that all this seemed like an eternity. At some point he has to stop, doesn't he? 

She moved a little against the dirty floor, to look at the outside of a window free of hammered boards. The weather changed again in a snap of fingers, and now dark clouds decided to hide the warm sun, which, for some reason, had a metaphorical meaning for Beverly. Something so beautiful, small, resplendent in _life,_ that out of nowhere it was overshadowed by a polluting, nauseating and evil darkness, it is how she assimilated it. 

She wanted to think that none of this was real, and that it was just a horrible nightmare. 

As a result of that thought, the clown raised, with a sharp claw, the girl's hips to tighten the contact of his cock. Beverly's heart was smothered, thinking that maybe he was going to bite her again. 

His bites are a fucking pain, his pointed teeth were not made for anything other than just ripping the flesh from his prey. She didn't understand the reason for it, he also did not seem interested in removing a part of her body. But when the above happened, he bit her on the neck, while intensifying his movements to fuck her harder than before, becoming a fucking hell for her. Besides, that was an important indicative alarm that Beverly learned to calculate the approximate moment when she would perceive that hot feeling inside her pussy again. Her throbbing discomfort was strangely relieved by _that_ heat. Something like appeasing a large burn, with a jet of plenty of water. Only this time, it was the warmth that touched her. 

Beverly was slowly beginning to lose consciousness. Sleep invaded her like an anesthetic wave, strongly affecting a large part of her tactile sensitivity. Her vision became blurred, and the clown's pleasurable growls echoes echoing on her semi-dysfunctional head. 

She did not want to wake up again, as a sense of peace and encouragement touched her heart. 


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back with another chapter! I have not had the opportunity to thank for the Hits and Kudos that I have received.  
> So, beautiful people, thank you very much!

Tiny drops of gray water splattered on the girl's skin, passing through an electric wave through her cold body. Beverly opened her eyelids fearfully, even feeling exhausted, with earlier thoughts fluttering her mind like a plague of stunned flies. There was a horrible stenity, and decomposed garbage here. She glanced around, her eyebrows furrowed. Dude, where the hell did he bring her now? It was all so dark, and only a little light illuminated just a certain place. 

With minimal movement, she winced at the high burning that came from the area of her genitals. Her tears soon clouded her vision, and the disgust to herself that was born thanks to that little reminder, made her emotional stability worse. The clown has broken something inside her that caused that loud twinge in the womb. Beverly was afraid that, because of him, her body would start to malfunction from now on, and that it would incapacitate her for the rest of her life. _If she gets out alive after this._

She managed to stand up as she could, and the first thing she could perceive was that she wasn't wearing panties. Her thighs, near her crotch, were slippery, and trembling. She took an uncertain step. There came another ardor. After a few seconds, she began walking with her feet dragging the muddy floors, hoping to find the nearest exit. Her head was spinning, and so the body balance sucked. But just yards from her, something strange and quite unconventional, caught her attention. Under a _huge_ pile of rubbish, and debris, there was an old circus wagon. The such appearance of something like this in an unexplored place was not what really disturbed her. The letters stamped on the walls, yes. And it was as if the lyrics were shining just for Bev to see. 

_Pennywise_

_The Dancing Clown_

"Shit, "she whispered. 

Then, to try to dig a little deeper, Beverly looked up more and more, following an imaginary line in the piled garbage, to the tip of it. Her eyes narrowed a little when she could not see well the _things_ that 'flew' around the top.The darkness did not play in her favor, and honestly, the girl also did not want to insist on finding out beyond what was allowed. Everything gave her a very bad thorn. She should be looking for a way out! 

Bev immediately walked away from there. 

She extended her hands on the wall, a metal component, and amid the lack of luminosity, began to drag them through the frosty solidity with a very preventive attitude. As she went further, the sound of water descending from a considerable height invaded her eardrums like any waterfall. Although in judging the present and powerful smell for nothing salubre, that water must be in the same condition so it has perceived its nostrils so far. Beverly was almost certain that she was in a sewer, there was no doubt about it. The question is, why? Why did the clown bring her here? 

The girl carried her right palm protectively towards her nose. _Ugh._

When she finally found something very similar to a lock, like a large round valve, Beverly fought and pulled her with all her strength, with no results. The damn thing was completely rusty and obstructed by its old condition, and the evident presence of moisture surrounding it. 

"Damn!" cried Bev, frustrated. "I've had enough of this shit! Why don't you finish me off once and for all?!" 

No one answered her question. Maybe the clown wasn't in this place. Or maybe, yes. He must be in the dark, watching her, having fun with every expression or movement of the little human. She felt like a lab rat. How outrageous! And to top it all off, the fact that she was ignored by that monster, made her much more angry, and she didn't even know the reason. A swirl of different thoughts decompensated her already latent chest pain. Beverly wanted to have him in front of her eyes. She wanted to shout at him, release her negative energy. Rage was overflowing with her pores. 

"What else do you want from me?!" she cried, more decisively. 

Again, it perpetuated silence. The grey waters were the only ones that answered by imposition. _That bastard._

"Raping me only increased my hatred of you, and that's not what you're looking for, or am I wrong?" she bit her tongue. Her trembling voice seemed a mistake. What Bev felt the least, at the time, was fear. The right concept was _nerves,_ but not fear precisely. 

Beverly made a slight start, when she heard the cynical laughter of her own captor behind her back. She turned round, and stared at her eerie echoes. Damn, his bright eyes, she hated him. 

"Oh, raping you was just a little tasting for me," he said, amusing. "I'll do a lot more to you than that. I know your fears, _Beverly_. Rape isn't everything to you, is it? Your friends are there too. They, your father and your thousands of insecurities..." 

"You're sick! Crazy!" cried the girl. "No one deserves to die in such ruthless ways! We are not your food! Only a vile, despicable monster like you can kill children and then eat them!" 

The clown mocked with silent laughter. "But, you will also join them. And I'll take your silly _little friends,_ one by one and I will enjoy savoring their meats, just like I did fucking your hot, _juicy_ pussy" 

With a repulsive gasp, Beverly covered her ears with both hands. She didn't want to hear that from his mouth, he disgusted her and hurt her. The mental scar was more than enough to martyr her, let alone she was prepared to accept the facts as such. 

The girl rushed in the opposite direction, while she could still hear the clown's playful laughter, without being chased by him. Because, where could she go? As long as he had an eye on her head, she would never be free. 

Beverly knelt dizzy over a pool of water, and vomited greenish substances and gastric acids again. 


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At three a.m... Men i'm not sleepy yet.  
> Enjoy this chapter!

Oh, how she hated the darkness. Stepping on soft, suspicious things, mixed with nauseating water, and not knowing if it was shit or other crap, was the most repellent feeling she's ever experienced. The squeals of the rats greeted her from time to time, showing interest in the new invader of their nests, to the point of sniffing her just inches away from her body. For that simple fact, Beverly preferred to stay in one place... and the best option seemed to be inside the circus car. However, considering who owned that transport, she decided to endure her distance. Complete naivety, never. 

When she found a small space not so damp, and rat-free, she remained sitting there in silence. There was the need to devise an escape plan, but in turn, she felt so insecure, and cornered by the clown, that she dared not even project thoughts for fear of being heard by him and being misused for his convenience. Honestly, Beverly had no idea what the fuck to do. Stress gave her a terrible headache. 

At least the place where she was, she was beginning to filter out a little luminosity, probably because the sun was starting her morning radiation ritual. Well, then, darkness didn't eternize on these sides, and maybe, that could be very advantageous after all. I mean, there must be another way out here besides the one already located, right? Otherwise, how the hell did the contractors go in to uncover the internal pipes, if the original entrance was more than rusty? What's the emergency exit? 

And, it should also be considered that, if she could not escape on her own merit, what was 'plan b'? 

Have her friends noticed her disappearance? Her father, angry, worried? And she didn't even have any idea how long it's been since she last saw the Henry Bowers! Will they be looking for her? 

"Yes, "she said to herself, hopeful. Actually, it was a plea, an illusion. Unless, the clown, he has managed to manipulate the free will of each of them. Oh, God, no. Her dad, maybe. But her losers? Beverly didn't want to die in a place like this, and have her mutilated body rot along with rat or human shit, without ever being found by someone. No one deserved it. 

Her heart was squeezed. A heartbroken flash crushed her. 

She really hated the fucking dancing clown. 

* * *

Her stomaghe roared, and that was what she least wanted at the time. Vomiting brought the contradictory effect, and created a stomach vacuum early. This was not the best circumstance, much less the place to think about food. And she knew perfectly well that, under no reason, she would be fed by the monster himself. 

The girl was a kind of prisoner, but without rights to basic privileges. He wanted to see her in need, and along with that, test her to see how much she would endure her exasperation. 

Starving sounded as raw as dying in the mouth of a predator. 

She wasn't going to rumour in the filth either, that was a long _way from_ her principles. Before, Bev would rather die. 

Anyway, she could bear her appetite for a while, but not for long, of course. 

Leaving aside her shortcomings for a moment, Beverly walked carefully around the pile of garbage, again. There was something wrong. _Strange_ shadows began to wander over her, showing a slow roundabout in the process. The new light source, which was born gradually from metal grilles, clearly exposed the true identity of the things that floated in the air. 

"What the hell..." she said. _This is very sick._

They were corpses, not objects like she might have initially thought. With a wrinkled grimace, she almost screamed out of shock. Is this what the clown meant when he said _they're all going to_ float? Beverly never thought he meant it literally. Why did he keep them preserved there, like a trophy? The clown brought his victims here to eat them? She was not entirely sure of the answer to her questioning, but if so, she had to do something. Bev didn't want to end up there, he didn't want to be a trophy. 

Metal grilles seemed to be a good option to try to escape, or also, ask an individual to pass nearby for help. She could climb (reluctantly) through the decomposed garbage high enough to perform some useful and intelligent maneuver for the integrity of her life, but by the fact that she had to pass through those mutilated bodies, the incentives were going to Shit. Besides, Beverly had hopes her boys would come after her. She just had to stay alive until then. Survive. How to do it? The clown has threatened to make her a set of terrible adamants. 

What else could be worse than sexual assault, though? 

When she expressed that she was not afraid of him, nor, even though he had violently desecrated her, she meant it very seriously. _Well,_ there might be a little rebelliousness hidden between her words. If something doesn't seem right to Beverly, she expresses it. I mean, the behavior was part of her personality, and her actions backed her up. 

A high-impact sound that swept through the grey waters, pulled her out of her thoughts. Beverly hid behind the mound as a protective impulse. The clown was there lurking, and at first sight, with some setbacks. He did not seem to look for her (which was a good thing), in fact, judging by his sudden, somewhat unusual and unhuman movements, as if he were complaining about something, she might think that behavior was provoked by someone. Which, too, that sounded stupid, because did anyone stronger than him even exist on this earth? Obviously not. 

Or yes? 

Beverly swallowed the cumulative saliva from her cheeks, watching the monster's actions spellbound. He looked like a wild animal, and the vigorousness of his whining proved so. What the hell was this thing, Jesus? 

There was on one occasion, where the clown moved away from her vision with that same attitude. Having him away from her calmed her a little. 

Then some of nothing happened, or rather, _appeared_ in front of her weary blue eyes. The same exit that Beverly failed to open from the beginning through the rusty state, now it was completely open and available. She wanted to scream euphoria. Her first instinct was to run there and get out of the sewers with clean hands and very carefree of the rest. But why...? 

_Oh, shit. A trap, clearly._

He wanted to play, and that meant he was still here somewhere. 

Beverly, as far as possible, sought his long cartoonish figure around the area, but it was as if the earth had swallowed him. 

_All right, think Beverly. You risk your life like this?_

With a metal rod (recently found) between her fingers, she took an uncertain first step. Silence. Nothing disturbing for now. The next step was more determined than the previous one. Her heart went mad and prominent. Her legs trembled somewhat whiny, but Beverly struggled not to splash inside it puddle. Reviewing her surroundings again, she continued to press cautiously. The exit was getting closer and closer. 

_Breathe, breathe._

A new echo boldly cast, resurfaced through the wide cold walls, paralyzing her entire body. This time, she didn't have the strength to check if everything was going well. Her eyes tightly closed as she implored the heavens, and a tear of sweat gliding down her temple, were the uncontrolled reactions she must have faced with her head held high. 

After that, Bev decided to rush his short excursion without caring. _She ran._

The clown's expected and undisputed roars followed her quickly, determined to lash out at his insolent toy. 

"No!" she shouted, turning over, and trying to hit him with the useless and only weaponry she carried on her. 

The clown stopped the attack with one hand effortlessly, and took advantage of throwing that silly object away from the human, hurting the soft skin of her palms. Beverly recoiled several steps with a whining, and tears in her eyes. 

Her predator seems to expect something from her, before he wants to bite and swallow her. Something he couldn't get with the seconds that went by. The clown, furious and ill-fated, curled up the fabric of the girl's dress, and brought her closer to it abruptly, and then sniffed her like a dog. 

The gesture of displeasure soon manifested itself on the face painted white. 

Although Beverly was petrified in one of his arms, she didn't think twice before opening her mouth. When she realized her grave mistake, it was too late. 

"Why do you do that?! I don't want you to smell me!" yelled Bev, trying to get out of the grip. Poor creature. "Get away from me, depraved!" 

He found such hyperventilated courage amusing, though he did not prove it at all plain-sighted. 

"Let go of me right now...!" 

"Let you go to you?!" roared mockingly. "Me, following the orders of an insignificant human like you?" he laughed again in a childish voice. 

The yellow, sharp teeth just inches from her nose really made her uncomfortable. Not only did she feel his strange breath, she could also see tartar mixed with dried blood on his gums. To _sweeten_ the prospect a little, she looked the other way. 

"You're terribly stupid if you think that shell will keep you alive from me, _child._ Do you have any idea how easy it would be to tear you apart right now?" 

_Hell._ "Then why haven't you done it yet?" asked Bev. "It's because you want my fear of you, isn't it? You won't get it because that feeling doesn't exist when I see you." 

The grab of her clothes deepens. Again she has made him angry. She didn't know if she should flatter the effect of her words, or be frightened by the next action. 

"We'll see how much you'll continue to be," he said. 

The clown pushed her to the ground hard. Caught inside that damaging hole, _he raped her again._


	11. Xl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little depressed by everything that is happening in the world. I think this has not been the "best year" for anyone, I mean, watching the TV news or local newspapers talking about this global disease is quite overwhelming. I don't know, it's like a mental stress. I personally try to distract myself a bit by doing other things, but it is IMPOSSIBLE to ignore the fact that many people are dying around the world.
> 
> I know many people around me who have lost their jobs due to low sales from commerce. People with large families to feed. But I also know other people who do not respect quarantines, do not respect their relatives. If you fall, they will too. It is unfair. That only shows how selfish a human being can be.  
> Thanks to our hygienic care, my family is well protected until now. 
> 
> Well for this shit, I didn't want to publish anything... I don't have the necessary inspiration. But, thanks to this quarantine, I have been able to distract myself with this; write or read.
> 
> .*I'm sorry how long this note has turned out. I am also sorry for the grammatical errors you can find here, I have reviewed it several times but I may have forgotten something.  
> In short, I hope that your health and that of your family is great. Please respect quarantine, wash your hands, and follow all the relevant protocols that your country has required to prevent contagion.  
> Thank you for reading-*

She was so disoriented, so lost, so _lonely._ Either way, this seemed like a fucking eternity. Beverly was about to convince herself that her last days would end here, in a sewer. There's no sign of a possible rescue. There were no noises or signs that she could detect as a miracle, instead, there was only more dirty water and an uncontrollable reproduction of rodents. 

Her body tended to weaken, Bev could spend hours sleeping on the cold ground in constant traffic of small legs. First, she hardly ate, and that 'almost' specifically alluded to anything she managed to find as semi-decayed waste. Once, what was the lunch of a primary school child, inside a small orange lunchbox with superhero prints, saved her from the severe pain in her stomach that began to haunt her for a short time. A sandwich full of mold, and a juice box with the expiration date expired, didn't even care about it. Of course, Bev just chewed it and then spat it out, thinking that maybe she could fool her organs, but she couldn't always afford to do that scam. The question is completely unpleasant and noreatic, but despair and hunger are hellish. 

In the last time the rain became a more incessant habit, and therefore also problematic. Irretrievably, the water filtered between the metal grates, passing over the mutilated bodies of children, and sizzling on the ground, getting them to cover her calves with infectious mixtures in just minutes. Torrential rains were not common these days, this seemed to be an intentionally provoked event. 

Many times, she used that water to cleanse the filth of her body with the help of a filthy bucket she found lying around. Cold as ice, but the feeling of cleanliness is a little more favorable, considering that stay. Before carrying it out, Beverly had to worry that the water would not spill on the ground or through those floating limbs. She didn't want to have any contact with them, in fact, just thinking of other people's blood strewn on her body, disgusted her. It seemed like a simple job, but the reality was completely different, too thorough. 

Moisture is another fucking problem. While not as penetrable as on the surface after every drizzle, in the underground it is foolishly tripled by a thousand. That is, apart from lifting the strong odors or millions of bacteria between environment already worsened, comparing it to a refrigerator seemed little. So how come she's stayed alive in the midst of those shortcomings? 

Well, the circus cart serves her a lot, even with that deteriorating condition. It wasn't the brightest idea he's ever had, It was at a time of great vulnerability. Live or die of hypothermia. It wasn't an easy decision at all. Bev feared what might be in there, but having multiple ideas that came to her mind like terrifying flashes didn't help either. She hates with every fiber of her being, the new circumstance in which she was subjected. Feelings of helplessness and anger did not let clear thinking, perhaps. 

On second thought, _He_ wasn't going to kill her if she wouldn't allow it. 

When Beverly entered the circus cart with some uncertainty, the darkness embraced her. In that minute, she craved a lighter, or something that could help her see clearly. The insignificant light that was infiltrating the sewer was not enough to try to look. She got a surprise, it didn't smell bad inside. Definitely there it smelled better than outside. The existence of decomposed bodies was discarded. The dust on her nose showed no discomfort in her, not after holding the shit out for so long. Every time she pressed steps, the wooden floor grinded as if at any moment it was going to break because of its prolonged old age. The temperature was warm, and Bev could feel with her hands a huge thick cloth hanging on one side, longing to cover herself with it right now. And so she did. 

Dragging the fabric across the floor, and careful not to trip over, Beverly slammed the door so the rats wouldn't discover what would be her new home from now on. In moments, darkness and silence became he best company for the rest of the season. 

She fell asleep soundly after that. Not even the need to rummage through her square meter, thrilled her tiredness. 

* * *

This is the fifth time that's happened. Beverly didn't understand what those things were, and why they came out of her genitals so naturally. Small bright, blood-red spheres glided between her legs, accompanied by slippery fluids that facilitated the function of gravity. The sudden and abnormal event began to frighten her from the beginning. It didn't hurt, but it was still a strange thing. 

Beverly wrinkled her nose, while throwing those things away from herself as if they were poisonous spiders. The rats ran desperately right where those things ended up abandoned and made them disappear in seconds. At bare feet, she pulled out of the circus cart a bucket of rainwater she collected on the inside day, and moved it to a corner free of too much garbage and illuminated by a few rays of sunshine. On her knees, she drank as much as she could with the help of her clean palms, and then applied it to her hair, masterfully combing it back repeatedly. The ends of her hair ended up very close to her shoulders, becoming imbuing the moisture in the fabric of her dress or dripping from time to time on the sole of her feet. 

Bev lifted her dress up to his thighs, and soaked the dirt from her legs, without wasting too much time on it. The skin in that area looked so horrible, battered, abused. That embarrassed her and saddened her in such a way that no one could imagine. She could never dare to show them in public. Actually, no part of her body, not even her arms. 

She decided to completely ignore the present goosebumps that was beginning to stalk her like a wave, and continued with her short, makeshift wash as if nothing. She wanted to finish as soon as possible and then run and shelter back into her four walls. It's stupid, because no matter where she was, he could even show up in his fucking dreams if he wanted to. However, staying inside her little shelter made her feel less helpless or exposed as she was at this very moment. Maybe it was just something mental, a hunch. 

As long as she didn't do something to get _him_ attention or require him personal assistance, much better. The clown hasn't come down to the sewer to torment her or touch her for quite some time. Actually, it seemed as if he had forgotten about her or, perhaps, that he had lost interest in someone he could never eat. The last option is a fallacy, yes. Beverly wanted things to go on like this until one of them starved to death and the other could live to tell her current situation, either as a fascinating or chilling anecdote. 

Male voices, specifically from the surface, managed to get her out of her thoughts. The girl's heart beat like a demanding drum. 

"Why the fuck does dead dog smell here?" 

"I don't know, man, I don't see any of them around..." 

_Teenagers._ Bev gasped, excited. Or rather, hopeful in some way. The grief was immediately set aside, and a feeling of happiness was present after so long without going out afloat. 

"Should we cross the river...?" 

"Hey! Hey! I'm here!" exclaimed Bev, as strong as she could. Even the echoes echoing on the walls supported her emergency call. "Does anyone listen to me?! ¡" 

_Please, please._

"Josh, Josh, I just heard something!" 

"What do you say?" 

_Louder._

"I'm down here! Can you hear me?!" begged the redhead, trembling with nervousness. 

Three seconds of silence passed for when the first dark-haired boy decided to poke his head out of the metal grates, staring evidently terrified at the secret depths. She wanted to cry. Beverly moved her arms to get her attention, but because of the shocking find of those lifeless floating bodies that narrowly brushed the metal, would hinder her intentions. 

"A-A-Andy, d-do you see what I see?" 

"Holy shit, they're corpses...!" 

"Let's get out of here!" 

Beverly opened her eyes covered in tears, on the verge of panic. 

"Wait! Wait! I'm here!", _please, please-_

Trying that way was useless. Unfortunately, the voices and footsteps they brought with them had already vanished from the surrounding area, throwing once again the poor girl's optimism on the floor. A mixture of emotions developed in her chest like a swirl that, with each deep inhalation, grew and grew, and contaminated her. She turned, defeated, staring at the ground, processing what had just happened, and blaming herself for not doing anything else to get heard by them. So close... 

More tears covered her vision and her heartbreaking groans filled the sewer with more adverse and insatiable wails. She grabbed the bucket of water and threw it into the mountain of garbage as a movement caused by rage, while screaming in anger venting all the shit she has had held in her body since the beginning of her days as a prisoner. 

Beverly breathed in a row so as not to lose full control of her reasoning. In just minutes, the heart returned to its original rhythm, and momentary anxiety slowly disappeared thanks to the good handling of the halite. When she finally calmed down a little, she looked for the thousandth time at the door of escape, nostalgic. Actually, this was turning out to be a pathetic and embarrassing scene. 

_You're fascinated to see me like this, aren't you, bastard?_

With nothing else to do there, Bev picked up the bucket with disdain, and took it with her back to the circus cart. By closing the door behind herself, she managed to locate the thick cloth by the sense of touch, and then wrapped it around her shoulders as she always did every time she stepped on that little place. Her stomach was starting to make annoying noises again, but she ignored it for the time being. 

The next time she went to collect rainwater, Beverly noticed two new corpses integrated into a batch of floating trophies. And she knew immediately who they were. 


End file.
